


A Good Butler

by chiiyo86



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiiyo86/pseuds/chiiyo86
Summary: Sebastian had tobecomea good butler.





	A Good Butler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lileura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lileura/gifts).



> I used a mix of your prompts for this treat. Hope you enjoy it!

Human beings were the most fascinating of creatures, although one wouldn't think so given how fundamentally impotent and fragile they were. Or maybe this frailty was precisely what made their charm. Among other things, the number of roles and masks they created to be able to function in society was endlessly entertaining. There were few things he liked more than a good role, and acting as Sebastian the butler was proving to be surprisingly enjoyable. Being something of a perfectionist, Sebastian applied himself to finding out what made a good butler, and then did his best to move above and beyond those expectations. 

His already arduous task was made all the more challenging by his young master, the ten-year-old Earl Phantomhive.

\- _A good butler records the likes and dislikes of his employer._

Presentation is everything, was the first lesson Sebastian had learned about being a butler. It meant that he had to dress impeccably, make sure that the house was always spotless, but also that everything he served must be accompanied with a special touch. It wasn't enough, for example, to present a cup of tea on a silver tray. It was infinitely better for the tray to feature a vase with a fresh flower.

This was what Sebastian did when he brought his young master a cup of tea and a sweet mid-morning. His master hadn't rung for tea, but Sebastian had noticed that he often ran out of steam when he had to work all through morning in his office, and that he needed something to restore his strength. The flower was a last-minute stroke of genius--as the tea was brewing, Sebastian ran to the garden and got a flower from it. By the time he came back, the tea was perfectly brewed and the water was just the right temperature. Sebastian arranged the flower on the tray and went to his master.

"What's this?"

Sebastian hadn't expected this reaction to his flowery addition, but a good butler must remain stoic in every circumstance. 

"This, young master, is a flower that has been freshly cut from the garden," he explained obligingly. "I thought it would be a nice touch to celebrate the arrival of spring."

His young master sat at his desk behind a pile of documents almost as high as he was, which dwarfed his already diminutive stature. His feet barely touched the floor. And yet his one blue eye glared at Sebastian with all the force and the depth of adult anger.

"Who told you to get creative? Take it away, before I--" The young boy scrunched his nose, and, after a few seconds of suspense, let out an explosive sneeze. "I'm allergic to pollen! You good-for-nothing--"

A series of other sneezes prevented the young lord from having to find a suitable insult. To make up for his incapacity, the boy grabbed the vase and threw its content at Sebastian's face. Water dripping in his eyes, Sebastian blinked slowly. _That little--_

"No flowers in the house," the young master said, not seeing, or maybe choosing to ignore the way the shadows in the room had become darker and thicker. "This is an order."

"Very well, my lord."

It was from this incident that Sebastian discovered that his new master didn't consider spring an event worth celebrating. 

\- _A good butler must remain unflustered and maintain a sense of dignity._

It wasn't a butler's place to contest his master's decisions. Still, when the young master decided to hire as a gardener a freshly escaped lab experiment from Germany, Sebastian allowed himself the private thought that this was all going to end disastrously. 

He wasn't sure why more staff was even needed, to be honest. Taking care of the house was a lot of work, that was undeniable, but Sebastian had been handling it just fine.

"A household this size can't be managed by one servant," the young master had said when Sebastian had dared voicing out the thought. "Not by one _human_ servant, in any case. We need to hire more staff if we don't want anyone to get suspicious."

Sebastian thought better not to mention that the young master had been the one who didn't want to hire anyone in the first place. It hadn't escaped his notice that it was only now that the master could sleep through the night that he was willing to bring in new people. 

So this was how their quiet, orderly manor started to devolve into chaos. It started with Finny--as the master had named him--the young gardener who didn't know mint from stinging nettle, then Mei-Rin, the maid who broke more objects than she cleaned, and, finally, Balroy, the cook who periodically set fire to the kitchen.

"How's the new staff adapting to their job?" asked the young master as he sipped his tea.

Sebastian's hair was still singed from Balroy's last bout of cooking, and he'd spent the whole morning chasing the colony of mice that Finny had let in because 'they looked cold.' Mei-Rin had broken an entire tea set of the finest china. What he wanted to say was, ' _I'm not even sure they fully comprehend what their jobs consist in, my lord. I have more work since their arrival than I had before, which should be mathematically impossible._ ' 

But he noted the glint of challenge in his young master's eye and understood that the real question was, ' _Are you up to the task, Sebastian?'_ They'd been testing each other since the day the contract had been made, so this was par for the course.

"They wouldn't be Phantomhive servants if they couldn't adapt, my lord," Sebastian replied smoothly. 

The young lord laughed shortly. "Well said, Sebastian," he murmured. 

\- _A good butler brings a sense of security to his employer in an unnoticeable way._

The new servants were the herald of the Phantomhive house returning to normal social functions. The new Lord Phantomhive didn't enjoy having to entertain guests, but his position left him no choice but to at least make the effort from time to time. Tonight's guest was a Mr Troy Crossgrove, the head of a toy company that would be the young master's primary rival if he wanted to establish his own business. A portly gentleman in his forties with an abundant moustache, Mr Crossgrove presented to the world a harmlessly complacent image. Both Sebastian and his master knew better than to let themselves be fooled by appearances. 

"It's good to see this manor up and running again," Mr Crossgrove said, looking around the dining room as though he was admiring the mouldings. 

"I didn't know you'd come here before," the young master said. "Were you acquainted with my predecessor?"

"You mean your father, the late Lord Phantomhive? Oh, very remotely. I only had the opportunity to meet him and your delightful mother a couple of times. It's a shame what happened to your parents. Please accept my sincere condolences."

"Thank you," the young master said in a tone that invited no further discussion on the matter. 

Crossgrove either didn't hear it, or didn't want to. "Did you ever find who conducted the attack?" he asked. "I would hate to know that such criminals were still running free."

The young master put down his knife and fork to take a sip of wine from his glass. His hand didn't shake, his face didn't pale, but Sebastian had had the leisure to observe the boy for months now, and he knew that the very precision of his gestures meant that he was trying to compose himself before answering. Mr Crossgrove's question was the first time, but certainly not the last, that the young master had to weather comments about his family's demise from a stranger. This dinner was a training run of sort. 

"The investigation is still ongoing," the young master said, his tone cool but even.

"I couldn't help but notice that the manor was quite deserted."

"We're still understaffed. You know how hard it is to find good servants."

"It's a hassle, I know. I was just wondering--is it safe for you, all alone in that big house? Given what happened here, I mean. If the culprits haven't been caught, there's always the possibility that they could be back, after all."

The atmosphere suddenly chilled. Crossgrove didn't look any less genial than a moment before, but there was something calculated about his expression. The change was almost imperceptible, but Sebastian couldn't help but see it and he knew his master had seen it too. 

"More wine, sir?" Sebastian asked, appearing on Crossgrove's right side.

Crossgrove startled. "Y-yes, please." Sebastian poured the wine until Crossgrove indicated with a hand that he had enough.

As he moved away, Sebastian lightly rested a hand on Crossgrove's shoulder and applied ruthless pressure on a sensitive point. Crossgrove yelped in pain and whirled around, but Sebastian was already a few steps away from him.

"Is there something wrong?" the young master asked with a perfectly polished expression of surprise and concern.

Crossgrove looked at him, and then at Sebastian again. "I felt--I'm sorry, my lord. My shoulder suddenly pained me, but I guess I must have pulled a muscle."

"You should be careful with your health. It's so easy to fall prey to misfortune. But what were you saying, right then? Oh, you were wondering whether I felt safe here. Rest assured that I do, sir. I feel entirely safe."

Crossgrove stared at the young lord for a long moment, and Sebastian knew that the man was finally seeing what Sebastian had seen from the beginning: not a mere child but a soul made of the purest steel, forged in a fire of grief and rage. The man's face started to glisten from perspiration and he had to drink from his glass before he could resume normal conversation. 

The rest of the dinner was an uneventful affair. 

\- _A good butler must be discreet and keep his master's secrets…_

Sebastian entered the master's office after a light knock on the door and found him looking out the window. As he deposed the tray he carried on the desk, he realised that his master wasn't looking out, but rather at his own reflection in the window pane. It wasn't the first time Sebastian had caught him doing it, although it happened less often now than it used to, and he knew exactly what this was about. 

"Do you think you should part your hair the other way?" he asked airily. 

His young master jumped at the sound of his voice--he must have been very deep in thought. "Wh-what are you talking about?" he stammered. "Why can't I keep my hair the way it is?"

"If you parted your hair differently, maybe you would find your reflection easier to look at."

Sebastian watched with delight as the weight of his words hit his target. The young lord blanched, and he gripped the edge of his desk the way one would grip the edge of a cliff to avoid falling to one's death. For a moment he looked just as young as his years, frail and frightened, the flame of a candle that could be extinguished with one breath. But then he visibly put himself back together, piece by piece, until the armour was once again impenetrable and the child had disappeared behind it. It was a marvellous testimony to human resilience, and Sebastian savoured it with the appreciation it deserved. 

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, Sebastian," the young master said, his eyes narrowed. "It is not your place to comment on my appearance."

"Of course not, my lord," Sebastian said with a bow. "Forgive my presumption." 

He never caught his master watching his reflection longer than necessary again. 

_…but a demon uses pain and despair as his seasoning._


End file.
